


The Dark Rider

by calliopes_pen



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-31
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopes_pen/pseuds/calliopes_pen
Summary: Mysterious deaths in a small New England town intrigue Donna and The Doctor.  Is a ghostreallybehind it, or is it an alien threat?





	The Dark Rider

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [](https://spook-me.dreamwidth.org/profile)[spook_me](https://spook-me.dreamwidth.org/) ficathon. I’m setting it sometime after season 3, probably during season 4 as Donna is the companion. For those that haven’t seen the end of season 3, there are a couple of mentions of events that occurred, and a certain revelation about Jack. Also, a mention of the second episode of Torchwood. 
> 
> The name Phillip Fixell is a merging of two names--the first name of Sleepy Hollow’s mayor, and the last name of Tarrytown’s. His middle name is a nod to Washington Irving. There isn’t actually a river where I’ve placed it, but Washington Irving claimed creative license and I wanted to stick with a river being nearby.
> 
> Update In 2017: This was written prior to the excellent characterization Donna was given in season 4.

_“...The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.”_  
\--excerpt from _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ , by Washington Irving.

_Near North Tarrytown, New York: October 19, 1890_

Don’t wander the lonely roads at night when you can’t sleep--a bit of advice that is easily ignored, and just as quickly regretted when you do so. Something not so easy to ignore would be the steady, and slowly quickening ‘clip clop’ of horse’s hooves that was growing steadily louder.

Growing louder by the moment, and changing into a quick gallop as one young woman listened, as though someone had spotted her and was intent on running her down.

The mystery rider would also happen to be carrying something…something that appeared to be on fire. Could it be a torch? No…it was something far more sinister. The most puzzling (or frightening, depending on one’s point of view) aspect? Whoever-- _what_ ever--this was, was headless. Was it a ghost? A demon?

The young woman--who would be remembered in life as Amelia Sinclair--was no longer able to run, as the rider threw what was finally revealed to be a pumpkin set aflame. It shattered at her feet, causing her to lurch back in fright, finally slipping and collapsing in the mud by the side of the road.

Her last sight as she gazed up at the thing on horseback was another flaming pumpkin headed straight toward her. Her last action…a scream which echoed through the night. The silence of the night is recaptured for now, save for the soon to be gone beat of hooves away from the scene.

The locals would find all that was left of her--mere ashes--the next morning, and mourn. The Dark Rider--known in some tales as The Headless Horseman--rode again for another thirteen nights.

However, there would be one difference in his rides this year. This time, if the creature weren’t stopped, and it gathered enough energy it would be free (from another dimension? Land of the dead? Nobody really knew) for far _longer_ than thirteen nights before Halloween, every ten years. More than likely forever, free to spread its own special brand of terror everywhere...

\--

_The TARDIS, The Void..._

A few centuries and a vortex away, Donna Noble and The Doctor were debating (read: arguing) where and when they should travel to next. Had the Doctor been a lesser man, there would have been quite a bit of wailing and gnashing of teeth, in an effort to have her see things his way. As it was, he merely gestured dramatically with his arms, and paced the length of the console room, while Donna was simply beginning to feel like she was watching tennis at Wimbledon with all his rushing back and forth.

"Come _on_ , Donna! Don’t you want to sit in the front row for one of history’s more fascinating events? Picture it. May 5, 1891--the first performance at the Music Hall in New York, starring the great maestro Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky as conductor! What could _possibly_ happen?"

Donna snorted and raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged helplessly.

" _Fine_. Other than Daleks returning from certain death or another invasion of aliens from a planet where singing opera even jokingly means you are agreeing that you should be put to death--but...really, now...how often does _that_ happen? And how was _I_ to know that singing ‘Walking on Sunshine’ was code for ‘Yes, I shall sire your children at your earliest convenience, sir’?"

Donna shook her head and put her face in her hands for a moment to rid herself of the image of _that_ last little adventure from her mind. After all, there was only so often you could be involved in things like that before you lost what was left of your sanity. One of those aliens had had rather pushy (and slimy) tentacles, too. The Doctor’s special stash of Gallifrey’s finest liquors was called for to remove certain memories after that--for _both_ of them.

“First of all, Doctor, the Dalek thing’s happened _four_ times now. How many times do you have to wipe out those giant pepper pots before you realize that they’re likely _still_ out there laughing in that grating voice of theirs giving _everyone_ great _bloody_ headaches, you _great_ Martian _idiot_?!” Before the Doctor could do more than look a bit put upon at that, she continued.

“And just _who_ would think that that music hall opening was so great? _You_? Oh, you would be falling asleep in your seat...and slowly moving to the side until you’ve fallen over and landed on _my chest_ again! Oh! You would snore and get us thrown out!”

The Doctor’s weak and indignant protest of “I _don’t_ snore!” didn’t stop Donna, though. The Doctor may have been legendary with his skill at interrupting people, but his companion was on a roll.

A cheeky grin had slowly spread across his face during the course of her tirade, and Donna just _knew_ she would have to slap him soon. "Fine! I promise I won’t use your bountiful bosoms as a pillow... _even if_ that is an _excellent_ use for those in situations of extreme and utter boredom.”

With a strangely playful smirk that hadn’t been seen in a while, he skipped out of the way of a half hearted slap, putting the console between the two of them. Donna covered a fond smile with her hand, and looked away. She stalked over to him, pointed at him for a moment, before poking him in the chest with a finely manicured nail and answering his little challenge with her own.

“Fine. Then _you_ have to promise not to kick the seat of those in front of you…or throw jelly babies if you think the music’s bad.  Or jump around like a child on a sugar high, since you always do that when we try to go somewhere nice.”

During this lecture, the TARDIS made a strange clunking sound that would translate to a fond chuckle had she been human.

Donna tossed a quick smile over her shoulder at the intrusion--she was adapting rather quickly, even if she wouldn’t admit that unless she were under threat of torture. She didn’t understand every aspect of her personality, and probably never would, but she knew that was a definite sign of humor for her.

She turned back to the Doctor, and became as serious as she could with trying to restrain any hint of laughter. “Oh, and before I forget--no licking the seats or curtains or any of the people. _Got that_?”

She paused a moment to reflect on what she had just said, and sighed.

“God, I feel like your mother. I’m sounding like _my_ mother, too.” Peering closely at him, she continued. “You sure you don’t need Ritalin or the Martian equivalent?”

The Doctor laughed genuinely, putting his fingers through his hair--that seemed like a rare thing since they had teamed back up, and it was a welcome sound.

“No, you don’t have the proper number of hearts to try out for the job, Donna. Ritalin, huh--nasty thing, that. Might just make me zone out and be all strange and spacey. Not to mention making me think twice and avoid danger altogether. Not fun _at all._ ”

He was teasing she knew...but he hadn’t promised to be good yet. She pulled his tie for a moment, before crossing her arms, giving him her piercing stare, and waiting.

“I’ll be good.” The solemn oath was marred by the sparkle in his eyes. “Promise not to lick anyone. Time Lord Scout’s honor?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you or your Time Lord friends were ever scouts…but all right. _Fine_. When we get through that, we do something I want. Shopping.”

With a look that promised pain and suffering to anyone that defied her, she leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear. “And _you_ get to carry _all the bags_. Oh, and carry my purse around, of course, like those old men do for their wives in shopping centers.”

He shuddered in pretend horror--well, mostly pretend, anyway. He then quickly ran over to the console and programmed in where they were headed. "May 5, 1891, here we come. Nobody gets licked, taken over or invaded by aliens, or turned to dust!”

With any luck, they might only be a day or two early, rather than a century and change.

And with a few last little adjustments, the Doctor thought that this might turn out to be the easiest trip they had made to date; he thought wrong.

The TARDIS shook for just a moment, and the Doctor rechecked the coordinates, noticing the monitor’s screen had gone black. He raised an eyebrow before saying, “Oh, Donna?”

Before Donna could answer, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard from outside. The two looked at each other for a moment, until the Doctor grimly spoke. "I don’t suppose you would wait for me here if I told you to? Not even if I said I would be right back?” Donna could be stubborn as a mule when she wanted to be. He knew it was a waste of breath to ask, but he had to try.

"No...and that’s exactly how every horror movie starts out, too. Bloke says he’ll be right back, and before you know it he’s hanging upside down, slaughtered on a meat hook. The girl gets chased by the maniac and dies due to wearing heels. That’s not happenin’ to _me_ …so I’m going with you if I don’t want to get stranded here."

As she said the bit about heels during the course of her rant, she gestured to her new tennis shoes. After her botched wedding the last go around, and running around in that wedding gown, she didn’t take chances with her footwear anymore.

The Doctor beamed, linked arms with her for a moment, and said, "Well, come on, then. Let’s see what’s happening out there. Think a man in a hockey mask could _possibly_ get us in the late 1800’s? He’d have to get through Donna Noble and her excellent right hook before that could happen!"

He held out his sonic screwdriver, opened the door…and stepped right in a pile of dust. After quickly analyzing it, (and being prohibited from tasting it by Donna, for which he was grateful later) he quickly hopped out with a look of disgust, before turning to his companion with a raised eyebrow.

"I think we found the source of the scream."

In the distance they could clearly hear the sound of hooves drawing nearer--they had been fading before, but it seemed whoever it was was returning to the scene of the crime.

The thing on horseback rode up to them, hefting a flaming pumpkin. While the Dark Rider appeared headless, disembodied laughter filled the air. It was obvious they, too, were headed for a dusty death, unless they moved.

The Doctor grabbed Donna’s arm and shouted, "Back in the TARDIS!" As they slammed the door shut mere moments after dashing inside, they heard the sound of a smashing pumpkin.

The Doctor panted for a moment before raising an eyebrow and saying, "The Headless Horseman? _Seriously_?"

Donna caught her own breath and chuckled. "Well, you _do_ sort of look like Ichabod Crane--you’re both beanpoles. _Fitting_.” She paused, before waving to the door and continuing, "You afraid of that thing? I’ve seen people that looked scarier than that before their morning coffee."

The Doctor ignored that remark, thinking that at least he didn’t have ears like Ichabod anymore. He clapped his hands together once before continuing. “Right, then. We fix things here--find out if it’s Cybermen, since they were ghost-like once when they crossed over from the other world...” At Donna’s baffled look, he continued, “...right, never mind, you were sleeping in that day or something. _How_ do you miss _all_ these invasions?” Donna just rolled her eyes, and glared, so he tried to placate her. “Fine. When all this is over I-I’ll take you shopping to make up for it?”

He immediately hopped back to the problem at hand, not bothering to note the look of smug satisfaction from her.

The Doctor took a long look at his companion, and thought about how they would likely look to any locals they might happen to stumble across. His brown suit (Donna made him burn the blue one--she said it didn’t work for him) would do fine. Donna might stand out more, though.

“Donna? You’re going to need a corset and one of those big dresses in the wardrobe. What size undergarment do you wear, by the way?”

He had tried--oh, _how_ he had tried--to be clinical about it all, but he just _couldn’t_ resist waggling his eyebrows and rubbing his hands in feigned eagerness.

The sight of an indignant Donna, and the feel of his cheek being slapped—he hadn’t moved out of the way fast enough for once--were quickly becoming a regular thing with him. It didn’t mean he _liked_ it, even if it was starting to feel normal. He just rubbed his cheek for a moment, before getting back to the problem at hand.

\--

The next morning the two headed into the nearest town, to try to find out how long this Headless Horseman had been around--Donna having acquired attire appropriate for the century, and having beaten the Doctor over the head more than once with her purse without warning when he seemed a bit too amused for her tastes.

As they went, the Doctor was using Donna as a sounding board and trying to think of any possible thing the Horseman could be, other than a ghost. "Couldn’t be a Cyberman. I didn’t hear a clank or mentions of being deleted. Did _you_ hear a clank?" Not waiting for Donna to answer, he waved his hand and continued. "The Master? No, he’s still dead...” After a moment’s pause--which could be translated as either grief or honest confusion--there was a brief, half heard muttering of “Maybe I should start checking the TARDIS for strange rings later...”

"Not as useless as your biodamper was, I hope," Donna grumbled.

The next hour was spent with the Doctor rattling off as many names as came to mind, rejecting them all when they didn’t seem certain adversaries’ styles. The Rani was both dead (as far as _he_ knew--he was wrong once before about being the last one) and there weren’t any chemicals involved. The Racnoss were all dead. The Valeyard...well, one never knew…but no, it wasn’t his style.

Before Donna could be driven mad by the length of the list, they made it to the town. It only took about an hour for them to find out who was in charge, and where to find him. And a moment for Donna to turn to the Doctor and whisper in his ear, "Next time we go somewhere in the past, _I’m_ stealing a horse." The Doctor chuckled, imagining the redhead wrestling a horse away from a tough outlaw. _She could do it, too._

\--

It wasn’t long before the two were able to find the person in charge--a man by the name of Phillip Irving Fixell. He seemed a good man, with a streak of grey hair, a ready smile, and willing to help if need be; he had to have been at least 50 years old, if the Doctor was right. Before they even introduced themselves, the Doctor flat out stated, "So there’s something strange in the neighborhood, huh?" Mr. Fixell raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Donna snorted, knowing the reference wouldn’t be understood for at least 90 years.

Just as the three managed to introduce themselves, Donna’s stomach rumbled loudly, breaking any tension. Fixell laughed, saying “Perhaps you ought to enjoy a late breakfast _first_. My daughter prepared a larger than usual fare, and you are just in time. I’ve eaten already.”

The Doctor smiled at that. "I’ll have to pass on that, but Donna here was preparing to steal and cook one of your horses." He ignored Donna, who was crossing her arms and wondering whether or not it would be rude to knock him out.

Fixell was led to another room by the Doctor to discuss the Headless Horseman, while Donna followed the man’s daughter (who was waiting nearby; Donna soon learned her name was Florence) to an already prepared meal of sausage, eggs, and oatmeal.

She practically growled when the Doctor rushed in a minute later, right as she was on her second bite of oatmeal. The Doctor paused and raised an eyebrow before speaking, obviously undeterred. "Mr. Fixell says our mysterious friend of last night is the Dark Rider...supposedly the _original_ Headless Horseman. Your Ichabod crack wasn’t that far off the mark." By this point, he had grabbed her bowl of oatmeal for himself, moaning at how good it tasted.

"Really." His companion wondered if stabbing him with a fork would teach him a lesson; it was doubtful. She tossed it on the table instead, and leaned back in the chair to wait for him to finish.

" _Yep_!" He finished the oatmeal in record time, finally grinning. "He pops up every 10 years and causes trouble for 13 nights before Halloween, before vanishing back into the mist. He needs two victims a night, actually, and loves drinking fear. Cliché, but if he’s not fed that often, then… _poof_!" He made a little exploding gesture, flinging a bit of food left on his ( _Donna’s_ , actually, she silently fumed) fork. "Or so everyone says."

Donna leaned her chin on one hand. "So we have twelve nights, and he only got one person last night." After a pause, her eyes widened. "If he gets a Time Lord--what happens then?"

The Doctor cringed. "Ooh...one big and tasty buffet line--a free for all. He probably would be sated and never be hungry again." _Kind of like the Family of Blood_ , he thought.

"If someone wasn’t afraid at all...would Casper starve? If they confronted him?"

The Doctor leaned forward; his tone of voice held a warning. "Donna..." Suddenly, his eyes brightened, and a smile slowly dawned. "You’re a _genius_!" Jumping from his chair, he began pacing the length of the kitchen, talking a mile a minute.

Donna grinned at the genius comment, knowing he was in his element. The ghost--if it _was_ a ghost--wouldn’t survive the two of them.

"It wouldn’t...couldn’t be me to do it, or **_boom_** , end of the world! Someone that didn’t fear him, yes…then he would fade out or explode or implode or shrink to nothing--whatever a Horseman does!" Dragging his hands through his hair, he looked at Donna again. "Fear is what he craves--kind of like that sex alien Jack bragged about, come to think of it."

Shaking his head, he continued. "But _you_...oh, if you could suppress any fear--and I _know_ you can, since you’re Donna Noble--you could be the one to win the day! Their _liberator_! Yes!"

"So he wouldn’t smash pumpkins over my skull when I wasn’t looking." She frowned, thinking of the plan. "You can’t be there at all. I’ve seen horror movies--watch from the bushes and he gets you from behind."

The Doctor nodded. "Then I’ll be nearby, in the TARDIS. I’ll move it closer to where you are, and if the plan goes all wibbly wobbly, materialize it around you." Hey, it worked with Rose and the Daleks.

Donna smiled. "Come running if I scream, or I’ll find a way to haunt you. I’ll insult you until your last life, don’t think I won’t."

The Doctor knew she was teasing, but if anyone could do it, she could.

"Done." A moment’s pause to sort his thoughts out, and he abruptly stood up again. "Now, to tell our benefactor and let everyone know they can’t leave for twelve nights. Wish me luck!"

And with that, he dashed out the door. Donna’s stomach rumbled once again, and she made a note to eat all of _his_ food when _he_ was distracted once this was over. She spotted one egg left untouched, and speared it in annoyance.

\--

And so it was that the plan was slowly set in motion. For each of the twelve nights remaining nights, Donna would wait for the Horseman and show him what she thought of him vaporizing people. Being force fed a personality like Donna’s was bound to do _something_. Donna simply spewed vitriol at him the second night. Unbeknownst to Donna, by the fourth night the Doctor was making popcorn in the safety of the TARDIS, marveling at her bravery…and feeling very grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of her wrath.

By the seventh night, the Horseman was easy to see through, and the pacing of his horse seemed even more agitated…the pumpkin was burning more like a gutted candle. On the tenth night, the Horseman threw his gutted candle of a pumpkin at Donna...obviously expecting _some_ fear from her. It passed harmlessly through her, and she pretended to yawn. “Can’t you do better than that? I’m not exactly quaking in my boots here.”

The eleventh night rolled around, and Donna did her nails, completely ignoring the futile growls and other attempts at spooky sounds. While doing a crossword puzzle (found in the depths of the TARDIS the day before) two hours later, she glanced over to see that the Horseman was starting to look like he was rippling; the effect was similar to a stone thrown into water.

The final night came to a close with the Doctor leaving the safety of the TARDIS, and waiting in some nearby bushes, just in case anything big should happen that could harm Donna. To his thinking, it was safer than letting her get stuck in another reality, or zapped into oblivion, since they didn’t know how the Horseman would be defeated after starving for twelve nights. While he didn’t believe in ghosts, he did believe there were stranger things than him out there--especially after seeing The Beast.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he realized that Donna jogging towards his hiding place. She was shouting, but he couldn’t make out the words...and that was the moment realized the strange sound he heard was the roaring of flames suddenly exploding outward. Before he could say anything, Donna screamed "MOVE IT!" at the top of her lungs, shoving the Time Lord forward.

The two ran as fast as they possibly could; The Doctor could feel the heat licking the back of his neck. Over her shoulder, Donna shouted, "Faster, damn you!" Speeding up, The Doctor breathlessly muttered under his breath, "Blimey, she’s worse than a drill sergeant _and_ Jackie!"

"I heard that!"

The Doctor grinned, despite the flames getting closer. "Never doubted it for a moment!"

In the seconds it took them to reach the river, he briefly thought to himself about what would happen if Jack ever tried to flirt with Donna, and quietly shuddered at the prospect of what she would do to Jack. _Wait a minute--maybe **that’s** how he becomes the Face of Boe. Donna decapitated him after he hit on her! Ouch...a **tad** extreme, that. Well, the wrath of a woman scorned **would** be a fitting way for it to happen…_

The screech of Donna shouting for him to dive into the river broke through his reverie. Together, they dove, hoping they wouldn’t drown or burn alive when they surfaced. Even if his respiratory bypass _would_ take care of the former for a few minutes…

\--

Flames continued to lick the water, forcing the two to momentarily dive deeper.

After a few seconds passed, they carefully poked their heads out from the water just as the last bit of flames vanished into nothing. Donna wiped her face for a moment, gasping a moment before giggling. The Doctor looked over at her, before carefully asking, "What now?"

"Your _hair_! You look like a drowned  and singed rat!" In between laughter, Donna got an evil grin, and swam closer to the Doctor. "My sister used to be a barber, and she taught me a bit—want to let me at it?"

The Doctor backed up at the evil gleam in her eyes, and wondered why her sister wasn’t _still_ a barber. _Did she act like Sweeney Todd?_ Cautiously, he answered, "I think I’ll let it be." He patted his hair a few times, as they walked onto the bank of the river.

At last, the moment sunk in for them. It was finally over, and The Doctor grabbed Donna, spinning her around once while laughing in a mix of disbelief and glee. He sat her down and, shaking his head in amusement, said, "Ah, _Donna Noble_...the only person in the _universe_ who could defeat a ghost through sheer force of will. Would’ve been a slap if he were any more solid…and if he _had_ a face." The Doctor made a strange face at that, before adding, “Glad you’re on _my_ side...whenever you hit menopause, you’ll be an even _stronger_ force of nature! Can’t wait!"

His manic grin slowly faded. As he had said it, he knew--just _knew_ \--that it was a horrible thing to say, and he deserved whatever pain he received from The Oncoming Slap.

Even so, he ducked out of the way just in time--only to slip in some unfortunately placed mud. While he promptly caught himself before he fell back in, Donna walked over, tutted fondly at his miscalculation…and shoved him back into the water. The Doctor resurfaced sputtering, and gave her a mock glare. "Oh, you’ll _pay_ for that Miss Noble. Come closer." With an evil grin that could have made The Master shiver in his boots, ( _or laugh hysterically--it could have gone either way with him,_ The Doctor thought) The Doctor ran at her, trying to make a grab for the redhead that was rushing back towards the TARDIS.

"For someone that doesn’t fear a Headless Horseman, you’re sure moving fast," he shouted, before looking down at his ruined clothes.

A new suit would have to come _before_ he took her on that promised shopping trip.

"Oh, Donna? Don’t you think I would look _dashing_ in a red suit with brown stripes?"

When she paused, and gave him a look, he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Do it." She slapped him, he shook himself, and they both grinned. Undeterred, he rolled his eyes and continued, "Now that my daily allotted _slap_ is out of the way, it’s back to work on getting us to the music hall!" He clapped his hands together while manically grinning and quickly skipping away into the TARDIS.

Donna simply rolled her eyes, knowing that defeating a ghost was easy compared to babysitting a giddy Doctor. He had better have a good credit card, because she would have her own revenge soon enough.

__

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to SeanDC for beta reading.


End file.
